


Tribal Grounds

by Yadirocks



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-04 21:20:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6675853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yadirocks/pseuds/Yadirocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason hates bullying, but even more so when it's one teammate to another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Brush It Off

**Author's Note:**

> This work is dedicated to my lil sis, the biggest Indians and Jason Kipnis fan I know of. Love ya, sissy!

Progressive Field had never looked so beautiful as it did right now. The sunlight gently reflected off of the shards of outfield grass, a warm, soothing breeze gusting through and making the grass sway. If he really wanted to, Jason could've imagined that the outfield was waving at him, welcoming him back with a shining smile.

In a stark contrast to the friendliness the outfield exhumed, the infield dirt was rough and dry beneath his cleats. A shadow was curved around the infield, and though Jason knew that he would later be longing for the shade from the blistering Cleveland sun, he wished that the infield wasn't so cold this early in the game.

Lost deep in thought, Kipnis didn't hear the sound of footsteps approaching. In fact, it wasn't until Francisco yelled, "Kip!" right into his ear that Jason even noticed that Lindor was right next to him. 

Jason nearly jumped ten feet in the air, eyes softening for a moment when he saw his friend. "I did not mean to scare you," Francisco said, but there was a spark of amusement in his eye that told Jason he had planned the entire thing.

Lips twitched slightly as he tried to keep a straight face, hands fluttering out to his sides. "You didn't scare me, Francesca. Not until I tuned around and saw that thing you call a face," Jason said, tilting his head up and crossing his arms over his chest. Pretending to be snooty was easier than he thought.

The shortstop tilted his head, staring at Jason with mock-hurt. Then, before either of them could continue their banter, Cody Anderson yelled from the pitcher's mound, "You two idiots need to pay attention."

He pointed to the baseball that was somehow in centerfield, probably due to either an off throw by Gomes or a bad attempt at catching the ball from Cody. Either way, Francisco clicked his tongue at Kipnis and shook his head with disappointment. "Sorry, Andy," Jason muttered, leaving the cool of the infield to fetch the ball.

When Kipnis had thrown the ball in (which Anderson snapped out of the air with a sharp tilt of his head), Jason put his hands on his knees and cast a sideways look at Lindor. "Why couldn't you go get the ball? You're younger," he complained.

Francisco rolled his eyes. "You whine like a toddler," he teased. Since the game was getting ready to begin, Jason simply said, "I've got something for you." He pulled his hand out of his pocket, flipping him off. Lindor waved and blew a kiss at him, a smug grin plastered to his face.

Jason was correct about missing the shade. By the fourth inning, not a cloud was in the sky. Sweat trickled down his face from his temples, slicking his hair in the most disgusting way. He wiped his forehead as the top of the fifth commenced, wishing that he was allowed to wear one of those hats with an umbrella on top of it.

The game was tied 1-1 against the St. Louis Cardinals. He was slightly thankful that they were in Cleveland today and not St. Louis, where it was over one hundred degrees, according to the news channel he'd skipped past that morning when searching for MLB Network.

Matt Carpenter stepped into the box, and Kipnis let everything else fade out. The crowd and the noise of the loudspeakers announcing Carpenter's entrance seemed to be miles away. In this moment, there wasn't any other place Jason would've rather been.

Carpenter waited on a changeup, just missing the ball with the barrel of his bat, but still managing to knuckle it up the middle. Francisco tried diving for it, but he ball went just under his glove and into centerfield. Jason went to cut the ball off, turning to throw it back to Anderson to find him glaring at Lindor's back as he finally stood. Kip patted Francisco on the shoulder, and Cody saw that he had noticed his glare. The pitcher turned and picked up the rosin bag as if nothing had happened.

Francisco brushed himself of the dirt and grass the stuck to his uniform. He grinned at Jason sheepishly. "I missed," he muttered. Kipnis raised an eyebrow. "Really? I hadn't noticed. C'mon, Francesca, be a man and wear that dirt with pride," he said, slapping Lindor lightly with his glove before both trotted back to their positions.

Jeremy Hazelbaker walked, and now there were no outs and runners at first and second for Stephen Piscotty, who struck out. Matt Holliday flew out to left field, which brought in Randal Grichuk with two outs.

Jason was relieved. He wanted the ball. Making the last out after a dangerous situation would be an honor, or rather, a gift from the baseball gods. So when the ball was hit to Lindor, Jason couldn't help but be disappointed that it wasn't him. 

It was a typical play, fielding a ground ball. Lindor got through the hard part, catching the ball, but his arm snagged slightly when he went to throw. The ball went soaring into the stands. Jason's heart plummeted as Carpenter crossed home plate, giving the Cardinals a 2-1 lead.

A short look at Lindor told Kipnis that he would've given anything to have that play back. Francisco kicked the ground hard as he stalked back to shortstop, yelling something in Spanish that Jason was almost certain was a curse.

Finally, Anderson got Molina to fly out to Brantley, who made a spectacular dive to keep the ball from touching the grass. Now that the sun was beginning to set, the grass didn't offer him a smile anymore.

Kip waited for Michael as he sprinted in from the outfield. "Nice catch out there, Brant," he said, high-fiving Brantley with his glove. There was a sparkle in the outfielder's eye as he said, "I'm just happy to be back, Kip. I missed you guys."

Before Jason could take advantage of that statement, there was a bang in the dugout. They exchanged a look before running the small distance to see what happened.

Santana and Gomes were struggling to pull Anderson off of Lindor, the starting pitcher reeling his arm back, his hand clenched tightly into a fist, loading up to punch a panicking Francisco in the face. Blood was already dripping from his bottom lip.

"You blew this game for us!" Anderson screamed when Jason hopped over the railing and grabbed his arm. "You suck as a ballplayer, and we should ship you back to where you belong in that slum you call Puerto Rico!"

Terry Francona pulled Cody off of Francisco, who was too shocked and terrified to move. "Enough, both of you! Cody, you're out next inning. I've heard enough of your excuses. If you don't start acting like teammates, one of you is getting sent back down to the minors!" the manager threatened, yelling at both of them simultaneously. 

When Terry made Anderson sit down on the bench, far away from Lindor, Kipnis offered the young shortstop a hand. "Don't listen to him," Jason said, glancing at Cody. "He's just moping because he doesn't want that run to tarnish his precious ERA."

It was a sarcastic remark, an attempt to make Francisco smile, but instead, his shoulders sagged even more. "He's right," he murmured, casting his eyes to the concrete. "If I had not messed up, we would not be losing."

Francisco took off his hat and sat on the bench, putting his face in his hands. Jason's heart went out to Lindor. He grabbed a towel from nearby, not caring whose it was. "Here. You've got blood all over your chin," Kipnis said, getting Francisco to lower his hands so Jason could wipe away the blood.

"Thanks," Lindor whispered, staring down at his hands when Jason had finished. Before Kipnis even realized what he was doing, his arms were wrapping around his friend. Francisco hugged back, even though it was obviously half-hearted. "Keep your head up, Francesca," he whispered in his ear, pulling away and patting his shoulder.

The innings flew by, and soon, it was the bottom of the ninth, the Cardinals still winning 2-1. Naquin had doubled with one out, and Santana had popped out to first baseman, Matt Holliday, for the second out. Jason came up to bat, nerves fluttering in his stomach. The tying run stood on second base, only a single away.

When Yadier Molina called time, Kipnis noticed he was having trouble with his pitcher. Rosenthal shook Molina off three times, and finally, he nodded. The pitch was a changeup, which Yadier obviously hadn't been expecting, as he barely got down to keep the ball from going to the backstop.

Once again, Molina put down the signs, and Rosenthal shook him off. Yadier gave a frustrated sigh and called time again, this time stomping to the mound. Kipnis wondered if Yan ever went to the mound and chewed Shaw or Bauer out like Molina was doing to Trevor now. The catcher's hands were on his hips, and Rosenthal's head was bowed. He nodded every few seconds, glove covering his mouth, though Jason had a hunch that Molina was doing most of the talking. It was funny just how much a pitcher as great as Rosenthal could look like a chastised little kid when approached by the Cardinals' veteran catcher.

Kipnis decided right then and there that he was glad he wasn't a catcher or a pitcher.

Though he still seemed ticked, Yadier gave his reliever a soft pat on the butt as he walked back to the plate. "He crossing you up?" Jason asked, surprising Yadier. The catcher gave a slight nod. "Rosey has a mind of his own," the catcher muttered with a roll of his eyes.

Maybe Cody had a mind of his own too, Jason thought, before clearing his mind as the pitch came in.

Everything seemed to go in slow motion. He could see that the pitch was a hanging breaking ball, the seams not rotating enough for movement to occur. He put the barrel on the ball, the familiar crack sending goosebumps up his arms.

The baseball launched off his bat, and Jason nearly forgot that he needed to drop his bat on the dirt and run. He knew it was more than a single, double, or triple, or an easy fly ball. As he rounded first base, even the centerfielder, Hazelbaker, gave up. The ball landed in dead center. A walkoff home run.

Kipnis felt like he was floating, even when the Gatorade was dumped on him. It was so cold, but felt so right, and somehow over the chaos, he spotted Lindor. The shortstop was grinning from ear to ear, and he pulled Jason into a hug. "You saved me," he said.

When his ears stopped ringing and his teammates headed for the clubhouse, he pulled away from Francisco and smiled at him. 

Suddenly, Cody walked by, bumping into Lindor hard. Both turned to watch as Anderson back-pedaled. He pointed at Francisco and said, "You got lucky, kid. Next time, I won't just aim for your mouth."

Then, he turned and walked away, leaving both friends to wonder exactly what he meant.


	2. Baltimore, Oh Baltimore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Better safe than sorry.

There was something about Baltimore, Maryland. Jason couldn't help but notice how from where he sat on the plane, the bright city lights twinkled like stars. He knew that there was no place like home, and the simple thought of his nice, warm bed back in Cleveland made his eyelids droop. If Jason had to choose a team to play against, though, the Orioles would be in his top three.

A loud snore came from beside him. His lips slowly formed a smile, eyes leaving the view of Baltimore to look at the more unpleasant sight of Francisco drooling on a pillow, mouth opened wide as he released another snore that sounded similar to a fog horn. He groaned inwardly when he realized it would be his job to get the shortstop into the hotel without causing a scene. That was the downside of playing in Baltimore: roommates were required. 

The plane jerked slightly as they hit some turbulence before their landing. Francisco's snoring stopped for a second before he settled back into sleep. Jason rolled his eyes as he grabbed onto the handle above his seat, putting his hand on Lindor's chest to keep him from going flying out of his seat. What would the kid do without him?

Soon, the plane's shaking and shuddering stopped, and the wheels screeched on the pavement as they reached the airport. Other players began to rouse, and a small chatter made its way to Jason's ears. He didn't know how his teammates could sleep on a plane. Kipnis was too terrified of crashing to sleep.

Finally, the plane edged its way to a stop, and the doors were opened. Lights came on so that the players could see as they grabbed duffel bags and suitcases from the overhead cabinets. Jason grabbed his and Francisco's stuff, which ended up being nothing more than two small suitcases and a bag containing a few movies and some snacks. He glanced down at his friend, grinning again when the shortstop mumbled something in Spanish. He would hold this against him for the rest of his life, Jason would be sure.

"C'mon, Francesca, wake up," he whispered, shaking him until Lindor opened groggy eyes. He looked around and sat up with a yawn, tugging on his shoes. "How long was I out?" he asked.

"Two hours. Don't worry, though, I was plenty entertained by your trumpet of a snore," Jason teased as they made their way down the aisle. Francisco gave Jason a cheeky grin, indicating that he wasn't the least bit sorry, not that Jason expected another response out of the shortstop.

Another thing that Jason loved about Baltimore was the hotel rooms. For one, they were always big, which was why it was required by the organization for the team to have two or three guys in one room. Usually, they contained two bedrooms and a couch that could be pulled out into a bed. The kitchen always contained snacks in the refrigerator and pantries, wallet-breakers in sweet disguise. Jason had learned the hard way his rookie year just how expensive the snacks were, so he had refrained from eating them at all, and instead would buy snacks from a gas station or Wal-Mart nearby. Even though he was a professional baseball player, he still had to save his money for more important things than a sweet tooth. 

The moment Jason opened the door to his and Lindor's room, his friend stumbled to the bedroom on the right and launched himself onto the bed, kicking off his shoes and falling asleep without so much as a "Goodnight."

Kipnis was about to shut the door when he heard someone talking outside in hushed tones. He pretended to close it, but left it open a crack, peering out into the hallway. Standing outside of his room was Cody Anderson, who was talking to Bauer. "I can't stand him, Trev," he growled, stuffing his key card into the slot and grunting when it turned red. Trevor stepped forward to try his own, but Cody kept talking. "He can't do anything right, and he's as stupid as they come. He's going to cost us the entire season if he doesn't get sent back down soon."

Trevor sighed, opening the door when his key card worked. "What do you suppose we do, Andy?" he asked, looking tired and annoyed with the conversation. Cody stepped forward. "I think we should set him up," he said, almost too quiet for Jason to hear. "You know, make him do something that will make Terry HAVE to send Francisco back down."

Before Kipnis could hear the rest of the details, the door to their hotel room closed, leaving an eery silence behind.

He stood in the silence for a long time before closing the door the rest of the way, resting his forehead against it and processing what he had just heard. Cody was planning on setting Lindor up?

With a shaky breath, Jason turned his head to glance into Francisco's room. "Oh, Francesca, what have you gotten yourself into this time?" he whispered to himself.

*********

Camden Yards was one of the most beautiful ballparks in the country, according to Jason. Here, the sun reflected just right, its light hugging the infield and outfield. Despite the fact that the sun was out and not a cloud was in the sky, it wasn't overwhelmingly hot, either. In fact, it was a perfect seventy-five degrees in Baltimore, just the right weather for a baseball game.

"Taking in the view?" Francisco asked, jogging up beside Kip as he walked to second base. Jason nodded, shooting a smile at Lindor. He still couldn't get what he had heard off his mind, and every time he saw Francisco was a steady reminder. He hadn't gotten the chance to tell Francona about it yet, as the Indians manager never stayed in one place for too long. He definitely wasn't planning on telling his friend. The last thing they needed was a second consecutive dugout brawl.

Today, Corey Kluber was pitching for Cleveland. Jason allowed himself to relax a little. Klub had a way of getting batters to hit the ball softer, whether they got a hit or not. Only on a few select occasions had Kipnis seen a ball hit hard off the Indians ace, and most of those baseballs had found themselves over the fence.

Through seven innings, Lindor had been having another rough game. He committed an error on a double play ball, and Kipnis could see his frustration mount to new levels when he struck out for the second time of the evening. 

"Keep your head up, Francesca," he said when Francisco plopped himself down on the bench ungracefully. "We're still winning 3-1."

"No thanks to me," he murmured. It broke Jason's heart to see him so sad and defeated. Kipnis opened his mouth to say something, but the top of the inning came to a close. He grabbed his glove instead, glancing at Terry, who was filling out the score book. Would now be a good time to tell Francona?

He glanced at Lindor, who had forced himself off the bench and was slowly jogging to his position. Jason looked back at his manager. Maybe it could wait a little longer, he thought, leaping up the steps and onto the field.

It was smooth sailing, or at least, it should've been from the eighth inning on out. Kip jogged up to Corey after he struck out the side to end the eighth. "You're looking good today, Klub," he said, nudging the pitcher with his right elbow. Corey just glanced at him and said, "I don't look good every day?"

He couldn't keep a straight face as he said it, though, as much as he tried. Jason laughed and pushed Corey as they got to the dugout. "Man, you're such a girl sometimes," he teased.

Their fun ended when a big thump came from the middle of the dugout. Both turned their heads to see Cody on the floor, Francisco standing over him. "He punched me!" Anderson exclaimed, blood dripping from his nose.

Francisco's eyes took a panicked look. "No, I didn't, I swear!" he tried to explain, but Terry was already there, and his glare made Lindor put his head down and go silent. "You, out," Terry said, pointing at Francisco and then at the steps that lead to the locker room. Francisco looked about ready to protest, but he thought against it when Francona's jaw clinched. 

Jason helped him gather his equipment up quickly. "I did not do it, Kip," he whispered, tears in his eyes. "I swear."

"I believe you," he said into Lindor's ear, patting him on the back once as he made his way down the steps. Cody was looking sorry for himself, wiping the blood from his nose. 

He saw Jason glaring at him, and put a hand on his leg to get a better look at the second baseman. "What are you looking at?" Anderson asked.

A piece of crap, Jason almost said, but he bit his lip and looked away. 

"Nothing."


	3. Something Smells Fishy

The ninth inning seemed to take longer than normal. Of course, it was probably because Baltimore made several pitching changes before the third out was made, which in Jason's opinion was a bit ridiculous. By the time the top of the inning rolled into the bottom, the sun was setting, painting the clouds a gentle pink and red as it sneaked below the horizon. Camden Yards was nearly empty, aside from the Indians fans that had somehow managed to make it to the ballgame and the few diehard Orioles fans that still held onto the hope that their team would make a comeback. The score was 5-1 in favor of Cleveland, but the Orioles weren't finished yet.

Corey was still throwing fire, and didn't look like he planned on stopping soon. It wasn't a surprise to see number 28 warming up for the big finish as he jogged out to second base. Kipnis glanced across the field, opening his mouth to fire a taunt at Lindor, but he cut himself off when he remembered that Francisco had been sent out of the stadium, having been ejected by Francona himself. Jose Ramirez now stood at shortstop, fielding a sharp grounder that Napoli threw from first base. 

Jason met Kluber's gaze when the starting pitcher bent down to grab the rosin bag. They shared a look before Corey turned around, ready to face the Orioles' threat. It was hard to focus. Something was out of place, and he was reminded of that every time a foul ball was lined down the third base side. One look at Ramirez there instead of Francisco made Kipnis sad, and also a little angry. He wished he could wring Anderson's neck without also getting tossed from the game. Maybe Terry would forgive him for it if he explained that Cody was being a gigantic wuss, but probably not. 

Corey somehow got Davis to strike out on three pitches, ending the largest threat for the O's. Jason took the time inbetween hitters to gaze into the visiting dugout. Anderson was still sitting there, looking smug and giving Ramirez a smile when Jose followed his gaze. Jose smiled back, clearly not recognizing that Anderson wasn't happy to see him, but that he was simply glad that it wasn't Lindor standing at shortstop. Kipnis was practically fuming by the time the inning ended. He had to talk to Francisco about this, if he could get his friend to talk to him about it. 

After shaking hands with his team, trying not to punch Cody as he walked past, he jogged down the dugout steps before sprinting to the locker room. He sniffed his jersey and grimaced. He smelled like sweat and dirt, and probably needed to shower. Finally, after thirty seconds of debating whether or not he should go back to the hotel or stay in the locker room and clean up, he decided it was best to find out what was going on first. He could shower at the hotel anyway. 

Once again, Jason was glad that he was a second baseman, because it made throwing equipment into his gear bag from across the room ten times easier. Brantley raised an eyebrow at him when he missed the bag and his cleat slammed against a locker right next to the outfielder. "Why are you in such a hurry? You got a date or something?" Michael asked, casting a sideways smile at Jason. Even though Kipnis was in a hurry, the look on Brantley's face was impossible not to laugh at. "Get that look off your face, retard, I'm trying to hurry that way I don't have to smell your stink anymore. You smell like death," he teased, organizing his bag as he said this. 

Brantley got closer to Jason just to be a little bit more annoying, trying to put his armpit in his face. Kipnis didn't have to fake his gag. "You like my new cologne? It's called sweat and cut grass," Michael asked. He gave the outfielder a mock glare before pushing him just enough to be both teasing and forceful. "Go shower before the league suspends you for stinking up the Orioles visitor's locker room."

Before he left, just to be a tad bit more irritating, Brantley wiped his hand over the grass stain on his baseball pants and wiped it on Jason's jersey, whistling merrily as he waltzed to the shower room.

After Brantley had finished distracting him, Kipnis returned to packing up his bag, hands flying and throwing so fast that he didn't even notice Anderson standing over him until he had put his bag on his shoulder and had turned to leave. He bumped chest-to-chest with the pitcher unexpectedly, and had to grab onto a locker to keep from losing his balance.

Cody stared at him. Kipnis shouldered his bag again, gesturing for Cody to move out of the way so that he could get through. Anderson didn't budge. Jason rolled his eyes. "You gonna move or do you want me to jump over you?" he asked.

The pitcher sucked in his breath. "I know how close you are with Francisco," he said, saying Lindor's name like it were poison. Jason shrugged. "Yeah, he's like a little brother to me. Which is why I don't understand what happened today in the dugout, because I know he isn't the violent type," he said, hoping to get his point though to Anderson without outright saying 'hey, I eavesdropped on you.'

Anderson clinched his jaw and stepped back, allowing Kipnis room to get through. "So...you really have no idea what happened?" he asked, studying Jason closely. He couldn't help but feel like he was being interrogated by the FBI. Anderson was staring at him in a way that made him extremely uncomfortable, and the rest of the locker room had gone silent as the guys noticed the interaction, watching wordlessly.

"No. I have no idea. Hopefully I can get some answers from Francesca when I get back to the hotel," he lied. He wanted to say that he knew what Anderson did, that it was a setup to make Francisco look like the bad guy and get him sent back down. The moment that Jason had the time, he was going to Terry to tell him. First, he needed to talk to Lindor.

With one last glance at Anderson, he walked out of the locker room. He didn't look back.

********

"Francesca, open the door," Jason said gently, turning the knob of Lindor's room to find that it was locked. There was a shuffling behind the door, but no response followed. He sighed, letting himself drop to the floor in front of the door and leaning his back against the wood. "I'm not leaving until you tell me what's wrong."

Silence followed. Jason stayed where he was, not moving and not giving in to the way his stomach growled. He could really use a snack, maybe even a meal. He turned his head against the door. "If you come out, we can go get something to eat. You've got to be starving. You didn't even eat breakfast this morning," he suggested, hoping to lure the shortstop out. 

Finally, finally, the door clicked. Jason stood and turned the knob, relieved when it opened. Francisco was already crawling back into his bed, burying himself beneath the covers. It was his way of getting rid of the urge to crawl into a hole. Being surrounded by warmth had always been a source of comfort for him, Jason knew.

"I did not do it," he whispered, his English becoming a little more broken because of how upset he was. Jason sat on the edge of the bed. "I know," he whispered, patting Francisco on the back. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Francisco sighed, curling himself more into his cocoon. "I...I went to get water. That was all I was doing. He came up to me and started talking bad about me. I ignored him like I usually do, but...he said something about my family and I slapped him. I didn't do it hard, I know it didn't, because there was even any red on my hand. I just did it to get him to go away, and he fell to the ground and his nose was bleeding. I didn't even hit him in the face, j hit him in the arm."

Francisco sounded so sad that Jason almost felt tears fill his eyes. "I think you should tell Terry what happened," he said, staring into his face. "If you lay here all day, you're letting Cody get his way. You need to do something about it."

Lindor sniffed, sitting up. "I know," he whispered. "Will you go with me tomorrow? To tell him?" 

Jason nodded. "I have something to tell him myself, so we can go together. Now, let's go get something to eat. My stomach sounds like a grizzly bear after hibernation," he said, which drew a smile from Francisco. The shortstop paused for a moment before saying, "Please shower first. You smell awful."


	4. There's Truth in Every Lie

Terry's office at Camden Yards was so small that he and Francisco had to squish together to fit in front of his desk. The manager raised an eyebrow as Lindor basically sat on Jason's lap just so he could also look Francona in the eye. "Can I help you boys?" he asked, pushing his glasses back up on his nose. 

"We wanted to talk to you about what happened yesterday in the dugout," Jason explained, trying to look around Francisco and failing. "Move your big butt, Francesca, I can't see Tito."

Lindor huffed and rolled his eyes, grabbing onto Jason's shoulder so he wouldn't fall and leaning to the side so that he could see his coach. "Better now, princesa?" Francisco asked, wiggling his eyebrows at Kipnis in an irritating way. Before Jason could make a witty comeback, which was on the tip of his tongue, Francona said, "Get to the point, you two, we're burning daylight!"

With that, both fell silent and let their manager speak. "Now, what's this about what happened yesterday in the dugout? Is this about you punching Cody, Francisco?" he asked, looking his shortstop in the eyes. Lindor averted them, and whispered, "Yes."

Terry looked from Jason to Francisco. "Well? What are you wanting to tell me? You two never shutup, and suddenly you're nervous?" 

He was slightly offended, but really, he shouldn't have been. Terry was right, they had no reason to be nervous around their coach. "Alright, since a cat has got Francesca's tongue today, I guess I'll start," Jason said, and explained to Francona what he had heard the first night they had been in the hotel. Francisco's eyes widened when he heard what Cody had said, and the rest of the time that Kipnis was talking, he stared at the stained carpet.

"So, as you can see, Tito, it seems sorta suspicious that right after he said that, he ends up laying on the dugout yesterday with a bloody nose," he finished. The manager shrugged, taking off his glasses and rubbing his forehead tiredly. "It may seem suspicious, but there was blood, Jason. I can't ignore evidence like that. Why did you punch him anyway, Francisco?"

The shortstop looked up for the first time in five minutes, gazing sadly at his manager. Lindor wanted so desperately for Francona to believe him; Kipnis could see it in his eyes. "Tito, I did not punch him. He was going off about my family while I was getting some water. I smacked him in the chest to get him to leave me alone, and he fell. I did not punch him," he repeated.

Jason didn't know how anyone could tell Lindor that he wasn't telling the truth. His eyes were big and watery, as if he were about to cry, and he didn't blink the entire time that he spoke. Kipnis was impressed that his friend could keep his eyes open that long and also sound so helpless. Jason hadn't realized just how much Anderson had affected his friend. It dawned on him that the signs had been everywhere since they first arrived in Baltimore. Francisco hadn't eaten breakfast the morning of their arrival, he hadn't really spoken at all, and his demeanor in the dugout that day should've been the dead giveaway that Cody had gotten in his head. 

Terry chewed on the rubber on the end of his glasses, which he couldn't help but find a little disgusting. "Tell you what. I'll talk to Cody about it. Something smells fishy here, and it's not just Jason," he said, rolling his eyes over at the second baseman. Jason threw his hands in the air, nearly dumping Francisco onto the carpet. "What did I ever do to deserve such abuse?" he cried, crossing his arms and pouting. 

The conversation continued as the other two ignored his fake offense. "Tito, I don't want him knowing that I came in here. He might do something to me if he finds out before you can get to him. Is there any way that we can do this now?" the shortstop asked. Jason inwardly groaned. Great, more people in an already-crowded office, that's just what he needed. Before this situation, Kipnis never thought he had claustrophobia, but now he was almost certain that he had that problem to add to all the others on his list. 

Francona sighed, putting his glasses back on. "Well, I guess we can do it now. Jason, go find Cody and bring him in here. Francisco, you stay. The last thing I need is another fight, this time in my tiny office," he pointed out. Jason would've collapsed in relief of getting out of the cramped room if he weren't already sitting down. He pushed Lindor off of him before his friend could move. "Right, got it, Tito, be right back," he called behind him before his manager could change his mind. 

It didn't take long to find Cody. He had a loud voice, almost yelling everything he said. The only time he was ever quiet was when he was eating, which is exactly what he was doing when Kipnis found him in the locker room. Anderson was chewing on a Subway sandwich, taking big chomps out of the sandwich like it was his job. "What do you want?" he asked with his mouth full. Jason winced and nearly gagged. Why couldn't Anderson have swallowed first?

He bit back his complaint and said, "Tito needs you in his office, right now."

Cody swallowed his food with a big gulp, brushing his hands off and releasing a sigh. "Well, can you tell me why Francona wants me in his office, or did he just so happen to stop you while you were on your way here and tell you to come get me?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at Jason. Kipnis sighed, doing his best idiot impression. He flapped his arms out to his side. "I dunno what he wants, dude, all Tito told me was that he needed to talk to you. Chill," he said. 

His idiot's impression must've been convincing, because Cody put down his sandwich and rewrapped it. "Fine. Tell Yan I'll be out soon for warmup," he said, walking away. Jason didn't even bother going to Gomes to tell him. He had a feeling that Cody wasn't coming back anytime soon, and neither was Francisco. 

*****************

"So he faked it? The entire thing?" 

"Yes. The blood was fake as well. I do not know why he hates me. He did not say why. I do not care, to be perfectly honest. I am glad that I will not have to deal with him for now," Francisco said. 

"Yeah, I can't believe you got him sent back down to the minors. He deserves it for pulling that crap, though," Jason said, catching Francisco's throw that was too high for him. He caught it just barely, a snow cone catch. Lindor smiled, and said, "Nice save."

"I know, I'm amazing," Jason said with a smirk, throwing the ball back to his friend. "What did Tito say about you?"

"Well, he wasn't exactly sure if I'd done anything at first. I mean, the only thing I believe I was guilty of was throwing a ball into the stands on accident. He said that for now, I am fine," Lindor said. The sun banked off his hat and shielded his face so that Jason could see the confused look in his eyes. Even though the situation had been handled, there were still questions that had gone unanswered. 

Jason voiced one of those questions aloud. "I wonder why Cody decided to admit it was all just a scam to get you in trouble. He went to all that trouble of planning and acting, and then he almost gets away with it and confesses. That just doesn't add up, in my book. Then again, I've never really been good at math," he said, wiggling his eyebrows at Francisco in an attempt to make him smile. He succeeded this time, and he silently cheered.

"You have never been really good at thinking in general," his friend teased, throwing the ball back. Jason raised an eyebrow in mock hurt, then shrugged and said, "I don't need smarts, I've got baseballism."

Lindor rolled his eyes and muttered something as Kip threw the ball back. It sailed just wide of the shortstop's glove. "What was that, Francesca? I didn't hear you over the sound of you missing that catch," he said, shielding his eyes from the sun with his glove and smirking at the way Fransisco tried to flip him off. He didn't get it right because he seemed to forget which finger was the right one, and also, before he could even get the wrong finger up, he tripped and fell because of a rut in the outfield. 

"Francesca, don't you know? Puerto Ricans can't fly," he chastised, jogging over to the shortstop who now lay splayed on the ground, not even moving to get up. They were wearing their black jerseys today, which made it hotter than an oven outside. He reached out a hand to help his friend up, but Francisco didn't move to take it. "Hey, you alright? I was just kidding," he said, hoping he hadn't really hurt Francisco's feelings somehow. 

To his relief, Lindor shook his head. "No, it is not you, for once. I am just tired. It is warm out here," he explained. Jason shrugged and plopped down on the grass next to his friend. "Tito is going to laugh at us," he said, glancing across the grass at Francisco, who opened his eyes to meet Jason's. The shortstop grinned, stretching out on the grass. "Not if we're 'stretching'," he said.

From the shade of the dugout, eyes watched them closely. He stared at Francisco, his hatred for the shortstop building beyond simple anger. He hadn't been given a choice about whether or not he should tell the truth, as it had been evident that Francisco was going to be babied once again by Francona. His eyes bore into Kipnis as well as he sat up to toss grass in at Lindor, throwing his head back with a laugh when a piece somehow got in the shortstop's mouth. The second baseman had lied to him as well, about not knowing anything. He had something to do with this too, and Anderson knew it. There was no possible way Lindor had gone to Terry's office and Jason hadn't been close behind.

He stared them down one more time before whispering, "I'll be back." Then, he grabbed his gear bag and shouldered it, angrily stomping down the hallway that lead to the exit. He had to hurry or he would miss his flight to Columbus. Determination was set in his heart. He had to get back soon so that he could declare his revenge...for good.


End file.
